“Oh, gammon! There is nothing to be dreaded from the guerrillas now. Of the three great bands that ravage the banks of the Potomac, not one is in the neighborhood of Washington—not within a hundred miles. Monck is in the Shenandoah Valley, where he has enough to do to take care of himself and his command. The ‘Free Sword’ is a fugitive and his band dispersed or hiding in the fastnesses of the Alleghanies. And _my_ traitor, set fire to him! must be very far away indeed, since he has not been heard of for so many months. I tell you it will be as safe as safety to have a picnic excursion to the Great Falls—so far as the guerrillas are concerned,” pouted Elfie. “Yes, perhaps, so far as they are concerned. But the guerrillas are not the only dangers, or the most likely ones to beset you, Elfie. The country you would have to pass through is infested with stragglers and deserters from both armies. And these are equally as cruel and ruthless as the guerrillas. Indeed, we hear of many more outrages from the former than the latter.” “So we do, but not along that road particularly. What should our pickets be about, to let such beasts of prey rampage all over the country?” “Our pickets themselves get shot down frequently.” “Oh, bosh! You’re trying to frighten me, Erminie. _I will go._ So there, now. The autumn woods are perfectly enchanting now, and I’m just dying to see them. And I haven’t had a glimpse of the ‘Ole Virginny Shore’ for three years, and I’m dying to see that also. And I never, in the whole course of my life, set eyes upon a live guerrilla, or a dead one, either, for that matter, and I’m dying to have a ‘skrimmage’ with them. Erminie, I’d go all the sooner if I thought there was the slightest chance of our having a skirmish with guerrillas. But there’s no such good luck, unfortunately. Our excursion will be as safe as the perfection of dullness could desire.” “Oh, you perverse girl. I see that you are bent upon running the risk, so I shall say no more about it,” said Erminie. “Say no more about it, and think no more about it—about its imaginary dangers, I mean—for no dangers really exist. And you will go with us, Erminie?” “No, dear; I have failed to persuade you to give up the excursion, but I cannot join you in it.” “You are afraid of the guerrillas, or stragglers, or deserters,” mocked Elfie. “No, really I am not—honestly not,” said Erminie. “Then why not go with us?” “Because, Elfie, I don’t like to leave my poor wounded boys in the hospitals. There are some of them that look for their ‘sister,’ as they call me, every day.” “You make yourself a slave to those same boys,” crossly exclaimed Elfie. “No, I don’t. I am free to go and come as I please. I can go and comfort them, or stay away and neglect them, as I like, but _they_ are bond—wounded, fevered, weary of their beds, and utterly helpless, they must depend upon the pleasure or caprice of free, healthy people to come to see them. And there is the pity of it, Elfie.”